Look at All the Lonely People
by Oncealiceswann
Summary: Kid John Watson came into Sherlock's life while he was desperate for adult John's death. Sherlock was really confused about this boy, and he was surprised to discover John's childhood secrets. Originally posted on AO3.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Dying Soldier

Chapter Text

Outside that building Sherlock made the worst decision in his life.

He and John were out for a case, and their target was just inside the building, but they had to break into it without being found, for the security was quite tight. They were hiding behind some abandoned paper boxes, being very near to each other. Sherlock could feel John's breath on his face.

'I'll go in,' he said,'and you... Stay outside and check if anyone noticed us. Be careful, will you?' John nodded slightly, and they both went into the darkness.

Sherlock spent four minutes to solve the security code and got the files he needed, but when he broke into a room with a window he could not see John outside. He should be there at this time. What happened? Fear slowly rose into his mind. John was not there. John was in danger-

'You are so hard to find, Sherlock.' A voice said behind him.

'Jim Moriarty,' he replied without thinking, and turned to him in a sudden. 'What have your men done to John?'

'John?' Moriarty smiled, showing his shark-like teeth. Sherlock's heart clenched, because that was usually not a good symbol. 'It seems you really got a hold on him, my dear detective,' he said,'you were too careless, Sherlock. They found you on the day before. Your loyal soldier noticed them and tried to cover for you, but unfortunately he was arrested, and five killers could get him killed easily. Of course, he wouldn't say a word about your work, although that meant death to him, so you don't have to worry, Sherlock.'

'It's fine. He means nothing to me.' Sherlock tried to use a cold tone, ignoring the fear inside of him.

'Oh you can't fool us now, Sherlock. We all know very well how much he means to you. That's why we did this. You are not our purpose, he is. And since I could easily kill him... There's no need of you here, Sherlock. Go home now, my dear, your work was done well.' He made a gesture, and the five killers fired at the same time.

'Goodbye, Sherlock,' he said in a pleasant tone, 'You'll never see that little brave, stupid soldier again. Have fun!'

'John!' He rushed to the ground, but it was too late. Blood was running like a river, out of his lifeless John.

'John!' He cried,'Please-Stay with me John!'

He held John's hand tightly in his own, and wrapped an arm around his cold body. Tears stung in his eyes. 'You can't leave me now,' he whispered between sobs,'How can I live without you? Oh john!'

But everything was over. His brave, loyal soldier was dead, for him. And it was his own mistake. Sherlock wondered if he could ever forgive himself.


	2. Chapter 2：The Mysterious Child

1

Mycroft sighed. 'Are you sure you are going to keep him, Sherlock?'

He looked at the child sleeping on Sherlock's lap. Sherlock's cold, thin fingers brushed his blond hair gently, and he looked sad and and desperate. 'I must, Mycroft,' he said in a low voice, carefully not to wake the boy up,'He's got no one. I can't send him anywhere. He needs to be cared for.'

'But you don't even know how to raise a child, Sherlock. Just give him to me, I'll deal with this. I promise I'll get the best caring for him.'

'I can't, Mycroft. I can't. Leave him to another.'

There was a moment of silence between them. Then Mycroft nodded. 'Fine, Sherlock. I know you wouldn't let him go.'

2

Sherlock found this boy accidentally last week.

He was coming back to Baker Street after getting slightly drunk in the pub where he and John celebrated John's stag night, on his way he met a little boy sitting on the dirty street. He had blond hair, and a pair of eyes which Sherlock couldn't tell their colour. He thought they were pink.

He froze, for he thought John was back, in this special form. A child that needed help. A child that had no one waiting for Sherlock to save him and guide him. He was shocked by his thoughts. What was he thinking about? He never believed in these things. John was dead. He saw him lying on the ground, covered in blood. He was dead, and no matter how much Sherlock missed him, he could never see him again. Although he knew it wasn't real, he still had some hope. I was drunk, he thought with a bitter smile, and what could I have expected? I could talk to him and pretend John is back, just for a while, when I am drunk. When I wake up I will be all alone again, and no harm would be done.

And so he went near the boy. He was sitting silently at the edge of the pavement, with his head lowering to his knees, and his arms wrapped around his knees. His face was covered with mud and dirt, his eyes were red from crying or rubbing by hands.

He noticed Sherlock walking towards him, but he didn't raise his head. 'What are you doing here?' Sherlock asked. When he was near enough to the boy he noticed he was biting his lips to fighting back tears. This made him a bit sympathetic because this was exactly how he acted right after John's funeral.

He patted the boy on the shoulders. 'Hey, young fellow,' he said in his drunk voice, 'you don't look well. What had happened to you?'

The boy finally turned to look at Sherlock. Sherlock was greatly shocked the moment his eyes met the boy's eyes. They were John's eyes. He could never tell their colour. Sometimes they were too dark to be recognised, and sometimes they were light, and now he thought they were pink In the dim light. That was just imagination, he told himself.

The boy spoke, but he did not answer Sherlock's question. 'What made you ask, sir? You don't seem to know me.'

'You... Made me think of one of my friends. Or my friend, for I've only got one friend, and that's him.'

The boy frowned for he saw the pain in Sherlock's eyes. 'And then what? I guess you lost him.' He said.

'I did,' Sherlock admitted,'and it was my fault.'

'Oh, people always say that when they know they are not to blame. They'd get over it in the end.'

'I don't think I can. I've got no one now.'

The boy was silent again. Sherlock noticed and regretted saying that to this boy, because this boy seemed to be the one that needed caring more than he did. So he sighed and tried to be friendly. 'I can see you are unwell,' he said, he knew it was awkward but he wasn't very good at comforting others, 'Why don't you talk to me? Like... I'm a stranger, so you don't have to worry. Tell me whatever you need to tell, I'll just listen.'

The boy didn't seem to be convinced. 'I don't even know you,' he repeated.

'Fine,' Sherlock gave up,'then you should know me, if it is so important to you. My name is Sherlock Holmes, and my address is 221B Baker Street.' It was not suitable to tell your address to someone you don't really know, but Sherlock did, he did it for he was thinking about John.

'Nice to meet you, Mr Holmes.' The boy said.

'Well, since you've known my name, I think it better to let me know yours, too, what do you think?'

The boy thought for a moment, and licked his lips. 'John Watson,' he said, and that was how Sherlock knew everything wasn't over, and for that he cried in front of all the people staring curiously at his unusual act.


	3. Chapter 3：The Boy Who Came to Stay

And now John was sleeping in Sherlock's arms, he finally had a chance to observe his little doctor. To his surprise, John was quite thin. In fact he could feel John's chest bones easily through the thin fabric. And how could he be so pale? He looked just like a weak boy, yet he went to Afghanistan when he grew up, and he saved Sherlock's life. John was not as strong as Sherlock would have thought. No wonder, Sherlock reminded himself, his mother just died, and his father sent him to his aunt, then his aunt abandoned him. Such stories are hard to believe today, it was often thought to be happening in Victorian Ages. But this happened to John, maybe John was special in some way.

Sherlock's hand brushed John's hair softly. He took the boy home with him, his families wouldn't want him at any rate. So he thought he should take care of John, and protect him, as John did for him. How could he never realise that John was always the weak one? The one that needed protection? Of course he never noticed. John was a soldier, and he'd never show his emotional side to anyone, not even Sherlock. But when he lay there sleeping silently, everything was clear.

His pale skin, his tiny fingers, dry lips and long, golden eyelashes. If possible, Sherlock would touch his skin, and place kisses all over his body. He'd probably do that to John if he was an adult, and they'd be regarded as gay, but he wouldn't mind. He thought about how he was always the one being admired by John, and dozens of other people. That ordinary blogger was seldom cared about, but Sherlock just found that he was amazing. And he was admiring John. What would he be like when he wakes up? Would he be quiet again? Or would he be strong, strong enough to carry on without his family? Family was so important to John, and Sherlock understood why. It was because he lost one before, so he treasured it.

But was John really back? When Sherlock began to wake up from the alcohol, he thought about why the boy appeared. It could be a trick. John was an ordinary name, so was Watson. This boy could be someone else. He can't be-

No. He is John. Sherlock was sure, and for the first time he had no proof. He knew it was John. Maybe it was Moriarty's trick, but he didn't care. John was here, nothing mattered anymore.

But he was dead! How could that make sense?

'I must find out,' Sherlock whispered, 'A trick. A trick that connected to John's life.' Maybe, just maybe, he'd see John someday. When the boy grew up there's gonna be clues for him to find John. Before that, he could enjoy his time with kid John and do his research. Finding John seemed hopeless, but Sherlock would never give up, for it was John, his John.

When he began to feel really drowsy, he placed an arm under John's body and lifted him up in a bridal style. He walked slowly to the room John used to sleep in and put the kid on the bed carefully. When he finished he stood by the bed for a while, and bent down to kiss John's forehead.

'I love you,' he mumbled. John whispered something in his sleep, Sherlock tried to work out what it was but failed. He gave up, and went into his own room. He grabbed a blanket to cover himself. For the first time after John's death, he fell asleep successfully.


	4. Chapter 4: Here Comes the Sun

An incredible thing happened to Sherlock today.

He got excited in the kitchen. Of course it was not the food he was cooking that made him excited. In fact nothing was worth being excited for about the food. When John was here( as an adult) Sherlock never had to worry about eating. John was always there to make delicious and healthy food for him, and force him to eat. So he couldn't really handle anything difficult in the kitchen, but according to the book about children's diet Mycroft gave to him, children's meals were easy to cook. He was quite proud of himself: so far he succeeded in frying two eggs as well as making a bid vegetable salad. John liked eating vegetable salads before-or when he grows up.

But that wasn't what made him excited either. Just now he was thinking about how John would act when he woke up. Would he be frightened in such an unfamiliar place and cry for his mummy? Then he would definitely have no idea what to do. He was excellent at solving problems though, as long as they had nothing to do with children.

And so he frowned. What was he supposed to do if-

Just then a small, calm voice came from behind.

'Mr Holmes?'

Sherlock turned back nervously. John was already up. His eyes were a bit red from yesterday's crying, but thank God, Sherlock could tell he hadn't cried this morning. He was fine, although he looked very pale. He needed to eat more, Sherlock thought, he was too thin. Maybe his family treated him badly. Maybe he had been bullied by the children luckier than him. After all he was there with Sherlock, after all his sufferings. For that reason Sherlock admired him, as well as his great courage.

'Morning, John,' he said, trying to find something more suitable for this situation while speaking, 'Breakfast's ready.'

John nodded. He looked confused for a moment, it seemed to Sherlock that he didn't know whether to stand there still or to sit down by the table. Obviously he was nervous, although he appeared to be calm.

'Well, sit,' Sherlock added,'Are you feeling well?' How was he supposed to be well so soon after being abandoned by his family? That wasn't a good question.

However John answered, 'Yes I am, sir. Thank you.' and sat at the table.

'You could call me Sherlock, John,' said Sherlock while handing John a plate containing an egg and another which contained much vegetable salad. John smiled when he saw the vegetable salad- Sherlock was right. His doctor loved vegetable salads. And Sherlock loved the way John smiled. When he smiled, his entire face lit up, and he showed his rare happiness so truly, even when he was abandoned, even when he was staying with a stranger. Sherlock always loved that.

'Thank you, sir- I mean Sherlock.' He said. Sherlock stared at him with much love in his eyes. His John was back, finally. He would ask no more from God. John noticed his gaze very soon. He blushed a little as all children would do, and lowered his head.

It was embarrassing for John, for he did not know how close he and Sherlock once were. All he could remember was that Sherlock saved him from his darkness. That already made Sherlock very important to little John.

But still there was an embarrassing silence between them. Sherlock tried to sit near John, but John jumped a little when he felt Sherlock's scent so near to him. So Sherlock had to move a bit farther from John. It was embarrassing and disappointing for him, as well as painful. However he made a vow not to show his sadness to this child whatever happened. So he thought he should make the first move.

'John,' he spoke with a gentle voice, 'everything's okay with me. It's fine. You're fine. I will protect you whatever happens, you know that?' John looked up. His face turned red again, but this time he didn't look away from Sherlock, and he didn't protest when Sherlock reached for his hand and held it tightly. His small hand fit perfectly in Sherlock's.

'Sherlock.' He whispered. He was blushing again. Was he always blushing? Sherlock wondered. It seemed easy to get him blushing. And that was adorable, he added to himself.

He moved closer to the child until their arms could touch. 'You are amazing, John.' And he meant it. It was also excellent to see John blushing again. He looked just adorable when he did that. He was so shy in his childhood.

'So are you, Sherlock,' the boy replied, he seemed to be unsure about what to say, so he repeated Sherlock's words. He was almost looking afraid, for he worried so much that he would do something wrong to upset this kind adult.

'Thank you, my boy.' Sherlock smiled at him, and rubbed his little knuckles soothingly. He felt a soft feeling inside his heart. That might be what we called love, he thought. He felt he was on his way to something, to John, and to his brand new life.


	5. Will My Love Grow, I don't Know

A woman walked anxiously outside their door. Two steps forward, one step back, and then three steps to the left...

'I'm tired,' said John, who was counting that woman's paces with great interest, 'What's she doing? Is she gonna come in or not?'

'Ah, we've got a client, John. I'm sure she's gonna come in, my boy. Try to observe to find your answer, John. Her strange actions indicates that... ' He stopped here for a moment and was a bit amused to see John's eyes wide with surprise and worshipping. 'That it's a lover's problem.'

'Lover?' John frowned. 'What is lover's problem? Don't they always "live happily after" in the stories, Sherlock? Or maybe- Well, I don't think witches really exist-'

Sherlock laughed. 'No, they don't, John. When I say lover's problem I mean other things. Lovers aren't all that happy, John. In fact most of the times they end up seperated from each other.' 'And?' John asked, noticing Sherlock was a bit sober. 'What happened, Sherlock?'

But Sherlock didn't answer him. Instead he lowered his head and sighed slightly, while stroking John's soft hair in a slow rhythm. 'Lovers do have problems, John,' he started a moment later, 'They would quarrel and shout at each other.' 'Why would they do that?' 'For a variety of causes. Maybe they can't decide whether to have a baby or not... Maybe they can't bear each other's habits... Or maybe just sexual tension,' 'Sexual what?' John caught the last two words immediately.

'Em... John, I don't think it's the right time to tell you- ' It was a hard task to stop a child from asking, but that hesitating woman saved him from the embarrassing situation. John jumped up and hid behind Sherlock. 'Hey, it's fine, she's just a client- ' Sherlock said while walking to the door.

When that lady came in John stopped hiding and got out. Yes, children are really sensitive, they could always know who would possibly hurt them and who would not. As soon as the lady got in John decided she was the 'wouldn't' kind, so he wasn't afraid anymore. She was dressed in a very casual style with simple warm colours, yet her face was so pale that she looked as weak as a piece of glass that could be broken at any time.

Sherlock studied her in an emotionless way. 'You do have a good boyfriend,' he started a bit later after staring at her for a while, 'Why did you break up?'

The lady was surprised. 'From where you knew that?' She asked in horror.

'Elementary, miss. Look at your wrists- the traces there told me you once was a secretary and you didn't get high salaries. But look at your nice expensive watch- Surely you've got a great chance and had a better job, because all your clothes are expensive except that scarf- It's old and cheap but not yet out of style which suits your clothes, I can see why you like it- But only that watch is old and expensive, and it's such a private thing. Well, look at the back of it- J. Watson-'

He froze. That was supposed to be that lady's boyfriend or husband, or whatever it is- But maybe- J doesn't stand for John. He cleared his throat.

'Anything wrong?' The lady asked, didn't seem to be surprised at all.

'No.' He answered quickly. Then he continued.

'So obviously that's your boyfriend- He must have loved you very much. Why did you leave him?'

The lady lowered her head for a while and looked gloomy. 'It's not that,' she said, 'Or maybe it's all related, but I didn't come for that.' Her voice was thin, and she sounded so heartbroken. 'You know-' She suddenly looked up and stared still John. 'So that is the child. John.' Her lips curled into a gentle smile. John hesitated a bit but smiled back shyly.

'I believe he's a good boy, Sherlock. Maybe we can leave him alone in the sitting room for a while and have a private talk? I'm sure he will understand. He's such a brave little soldier.' She smiled at John again.

Sherlock frowned. In order to protect John, he and Mycroft was always careful to keep him away from people's attention, and hardly anyone knew John was still alive. But this lady mentioned him, and she seemed to be familiar with John. He looked at John to see if he knew the lady, but John was never readable to him. He was worried about John, but still he nodded and agreed to go with the lady. 'Play by yourself, John.' He added before entering a private room.

As soon as they got in the lady closed the door and looked behind the curtains to see if someone was watching. Then she shut them quickly, ignoring the fact that Sherlock snorted.

'You do know what J stand for, don't you?' She asked, breathing heavily. Now it was Sherlock's turn to be astonished. 'I don't know what you're saying, Miss.. Am I supposed to know his name?'

'Yes, yes you are- James Watson, the doctor, and my husband.' She seemed to be at the edge of getting crazy.

'What?' Sherlock felt his heart skipped a beat.

'You might not know who I am, but I could tell you- My name's Constance, Dr Watson's wife. But things never got right. We were just engaged when accidents happened- He went to Afghanistan and never got back, and I-' She started to sob but was able to continue very soon, 'He and I, we don't belong here. I don't know how he controlled us-'

'Who?'

'I don't know his name but I once saw it and I think it starts with J- It was the same with my husband's so I noticed- Oh, and he's called James, too, but his last name wasn't Watson. It was M or something...'

'I see,' Sherlock interrupted coldly, 'you are safe, Miss. Go back home and take care of yourself. I'll be in charge of this.' He nodded again, and opened the door. The lady got out, it seemed that she really wanted to look back when she got to the door, but just as her head turned slightly, she trembled violently like a ghost was swallowing her soul. She stormed out and slammed the door.

Sherlock got out of the room soon after the lady was gone. His eyes searched where John was, and he was sitting on the sofa, looking confused. 'What happened, Sherlock?' At that moment Sherlock knew he had to think up a good excuse.

'We were talking about... Sending you to school.' He replied.

'Oh,' John simply said, and turned away.

Sherlock frowned, for he saw the fear in Johns eyes, though he said nothing. Surely he wasn't happy at school! Sherlock thought to himself. This child suffered too much before he becomes an adult. He walked towards him and knelt down in front of him. It was the first time he decided to get those words out in front of John.

John was a bit uneasy in front of him, not knowing what Sherlock was going to do. But he soon calmed down, for he trusted Sherlock, and Sherlock would never hurt him.

'I love you,' said Sherlock.

'You do?'

'I do.'

For a moment he thought he saw John's tears, but they never fell down. Instead, John shivered, his arms went straight up to Sherlock's neck, and rested his head against Sherlock's chest. 'I know,' he whispered. And that was enough for Sherlock.


	6. Chapter 6: The Game is on (Part I)

"What's this?"

Sherlock turned to see John wrapped in his pyjamas, which looked funny on him because of how large they were. They were Sherlock's, of course, because he didn't have the time to buy him kids' pyjamas. A lady came here yesterday and showed him the watch with "J.W" on it, and John was claimed to be her husband. Obviously someone has already begun to act: there's no need to wait till Sherlock Holmes is ready, because he's always ready for a case, not to mention one related to John Watson. How strange it was that he was overwhelmed by fear! He would admit that he felt some strange but mutual thing with Moriarty every time that psycho commited a crime, but now there was only hatred left.

He bent to look John in the eye. "What are you talking about, Jawn?"

"This." The little boy pointed at the bottom of his nightstand, confused. There was a "一" sign just beneath the lower drawer. Sherlock frowned.

"Did you touch it, John?"

John shook his head.

"Good boy." Sherlock stroked the boy's hair gently and turn to the drawer. "Breakfast's on the table. Now go, if you find anything weird just tell me and don't touch, okay?"

John nodded.

"Good."

The doodl— if he could call it like that— was created using black paint. They already knew that the character "一" means "one" in Chinese, but was it possible that Moriarty would use this trick again when he knew someone was ahead of him? No, it was more likely that this was a trick, and that the doodle meant something else. However, that was not the most important thing to consider right now: obviously someone got into John's room without being notice. Maybe Moriarty knew that his concern for John's safety would slow down the process of solving the case. He didn't care. John had to be—

"Sherlock?" John was standing by the door, looking hesitant.

"You alright?"

"Yeah," the boy went in, and Sherlock noticed the traces of marmalade around his lips. "I actually found a new one— a new doodle... I mean, that dash-shaped sign. It looks exactly like the one in my room, but it's on the kitchen wall. Would you like to, um, see it?"

"Of course!" Sherlock almost jumped and followed John out of the room. The boy looked a bit frightened by his sudden movement, but there was no room for that thought in Sherlock's brain at the moment.

"John, wait outside the kitchen, will you?"

John nodded. He seemed a bit unconfident with his ability to socialise, for he stayed silent most of the times. Sherlock could only wonder what changed him into a loving gentleman in his later life.

That sign looked fresh. Someone just came here when John was having breakfast in the dinning hall, and probably he or she was still in the house. The sign looked exactly like the one in John's room, only a bit higher in altitude.

"John," he said, his voice filled with fear, "Come here."

John walked to him hesitantly. When he finally came into Sherlock's reach, Sherlock grabbed him by the shoulders and looked into his eyes seriously. "John, from now on you must not go out of my sight, do you understand?"

"Okay... but why?" Even when told something he could not understand, John still showed his trust and loyalty to Sherlock.

"I'm sorry, but I haven't had a clue yet, John. All I know is that I have to keep you safe. We'll wait and see what's going on, and it's not necessarily going to be long till I work it out. I'll protect you, that's what I am meant to do, you know?"

John blushed, but didn't look away. Instead he gave Sherlock a careful smile. Suddenly, he seemed to be reminded of something.

"Um, Sherlock, about that sign, there's one more beneath the window... "

"Oww!" Sherlock jumped to the window and cried in frustration. Indeed, one more... He had to be quick and solve this before that guy did something to his John. He turned to see John behind his back, slightly leaning on the sofa.

"John, pass me the gloves, the pair behind... "

He was cut off by a few knockings at the door. "Sherlock, are you in there?" It was Mrs Hudson, her voice was filled with horror.

"Yes," Sherlock mumbled and opened the door to see his landlady with pale face. "What has happened?"

"Sherlock," the old woman began trembling, "You better come down and see it yourself."


	7. Chapter 7: The Game is on (Part II)

One more sign on the wall, identical to the ones they found upstairs. Sherlock checked the corridor, expecting another sign; no sooner did he find one behind the umbrella. Mrs Hudson covered her face, holding John tightly in her arms.

"Sherlock?" she called out with hesitation.

"Yes?" Sherlock replied without looking her way, his gloved fingers carefully scratching the wall.

"He's broken into our house hasn't he?" she asked in horror.

"Who?"

"The one who made those doodles."

Sherlock let out a cry of frustration. "It could be a she- we don't know that yet, Mrs Hudson."

Mrs Hudson spoke again, her voice soft and weak. "It's a he, Sherlock. I saw him- I saw it."

"What? You saw what?" Sherlock jumped to grab her shoulders. John jumped out her arms, looking scared as Sherlock stared at her with his eyes filled with angst.

"That...man, I saw him running into the bushes in the backyard." She yelled as Sherlock ran into the backyard, "Get back, Sherlock! He must be gone by now!"

John walked towards the backyard door, and watched curiously as Sherlock stabbed into the bushes with a funny looking stick. Is that what a detective does? Stabbing the bushes with a funny stick? But Sherlock soon ended his search, groaning and running his fingers through his messy hair.

"I've told you he's gone!" Mrs Hudson shouted from behind.

"Thank you Mrs Hudson, thank you so much!" Sherlock shouted back sarcastically. John frowned at this.

"Oh... John. You're always so nice." Sherlock showed a twisted smile before he stepped back into the house. "Come on, John." He called to the boy softly, and watched him go into the house before he closed the door.

"Now what?" asked Mrs Hudson.

Sherlock sighed. He took off his gloves and threw himself into that familiar, comfortable armchair.

"You don't already need cocaine just now, do you?" Mrs Hudson asked, arms crossed.

"No, Mrs Hudson. Will you give me a cup of coffee please? Black..."

"Two sugars." Mrs Hudson shrugged and went into the kitchen. "You better remember that too, John." She turned to look at the confused boy, raising one eyebrow.

"And I thought she was scared." Sherlock sighed, but smiled fondly when his eyes found John.

"What's going on, Sherlock?" John walked towards him and sat at his feet. Sherlock suddenly felt the urge to touch the boy's face, but he fought it back, knowing it would make the boy jump. He sighed again.

"I don't know, John, and that is rare. I should've got a few things clear by now, but today my guesses are wrong."

"What are your guesses?" John asked, looking innocently at Sherlock.

"I thought they were fortune telling symbols used in ancient China- one symbol is usually made up with three or six symbols layered together. If a sign consists of six symbols, it should be regarded as two parts, the lower half and the upper half, each consisting of three symbols. If my guesses are right, Moriarty-"

"What's that got to do with Moriarty? Was he the man who ran into the bushes?" John interrupted.

"No, I don't think so, John, but I think he's the man behind all this." Sherlock stared at John for a while. He could tell from the boy's look that he didn't understand a thing, maybe it was all too much for him. He reached down to comb through the boy's hair soothingly. The boy looked up.

"I don't think I understand all this, Sherlock. Am I stupid?"

Sherlock was shocked by the hurt in John's eyes. Did it hurt him that much? The thought that Sherlock was far, far more intelligent than he was? But he never meant to hurt John with his intelligence. In fact, he never meant to hurt anyone with his intelligence. His intelligence was always a treasure for those stupid beings, especially those from Scotland Yard. Perhaps they never even wanted to posses such wisdom.

"You're not stupid, John." He locked eyes with the boy sincerely, "You're an intelligent kid, and that's why I'm telling you all this. But it takes time and training to understand- I couldn't have become a detective without training myself and all my experience, either."

John nodded and gave him a smile. That was enough for Sherlock.

"Can you...go on about your guesses?" John asked shyly, as if he had just asked a silly question.

"Okay." Sherlock smiled and sat back into his armchair. "If my guesses are right, whoever left those doodles here separated his sign into two parts- one part downstairs and one part upstairs. Then there should be three symbols downstairs too, but there were only two, so my guesses are wrong. I'll have to come up with new guesses- or hypothesis, you'll impress any teacher if you used that word in your writing."

Sherlock stood up from his armchair to grab his coat. "I think I'll have to consult someone who's familiar with the signs. Do you-"

He suddenly stopped, realising that taking a kid on case was simply too dangerous. He took his coat off, it would kill him to leave John at home when he was out.

"Nevermind. Maybe I could ring her- John?"

Sherlock went closer to John, who was staring at the space behind Sherlock's coat in horror.

"John?" He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and stared, only to be stunned by the last symbol on the wall, an identical symbol to the rest, only in scarlet. It hadn't dried, and the paint fell down from the symbol, looking like a dreadful warning.


	8. Chapter 8: A Study in Scarlet

Chapter Text

"I need to consult an expert."

"What does consult mean, Sherlock?" John asked, "they say you are a consulting detective."

"Consult is to- ask someone about his or her opinion, when you can't come up with good ideas on your own," Sherlock explained, feeling a bit ashamed.

John widened his eyes. "You mean _you_ have to consult an expert because you can't come up with good ideas on your own?"

"... That was a hard question, John," Sherlock coughed, "To consult someone doesn't necessarily mean you are stupid- although most people who come here to consult me are indeed idiots- sometimes you just have to ask people about things that you couldn't be bothered to learn."

"What a good excuse," John remarked, making Sherlock blush. But John didn't seem to be sarcastic- Sherlock supposed he was still unaware of the difference between reason and excuse. However, Mrs Hudson laughed at this cruelly.

"See, Sherlock? Now John's learnt to be sarcastic."

Damn it, he's not!

"Shut up now, you all- I need to think."

The room fell silent in an instant, and Sherlock went into his mind palace.

"Ah, I don't even need a mind palace for this, Jim," he laughed, "Impress me with something else."

"You've already solved it, Sherlock?" Mrs Hudson's eyes widened in surprise.

"Almost," Sherlock grabbed his coat, "I figured I should consult Soolin Yao's Chinese colleagues."

"As far as I can see, that's far from solving it," said a voice from the stairs. It was Anderson, with Lestrade following him.

"What the hell?" Sherlock frowned at him, "Who asked you to come? Did Mrs Hudson tell you she was cooking kidney pie tonight?"

"I called the police," replied Mrs Hudson, "I'm sorry, Sherlock, I panicked, and..."

"Oh, for God's sake, Mrs Hudson, I forgive you." Sherlock put on his coat and looked at John. He stopped at the door.

"Someone needs to stay and take care of John," he declared.

"I can take care of him," Anderson volunteered.

"Not you, Anderson." and before Lestrade could speak, he added: "Not you either, Lestrade."

He stared at John for a few moments. He could leave John to no one and be free of worries. The best way would be to take John with him, but he wasn't sure what he would encounter.

"I need- her! Yes, I need her!"

He suddenly brightened up and texted a number. Mrs Hudson, Anderson and Lestrade stared curiously at him, but he stood quite far away from them that they couldn't see anything on his phone. He texted _the woman_.

The response came quickly.

"John, come with me." Sherlock said. John obediently went over to him, letting Sherlock lead him to the garden. They waited until Irene Adler showed up. For the first time in his life, Sherlock thought Irene was a true friend. But when Irene tried to take John's hand, Sherlock squeezed his other hand protectively.

Irene soffed. "Sherlock, why did you ask me to take care of him in the first place?"

Sherlock released his hand in silence. "Two hours," he said. Irene nodded, with a wicked smile on her face. Probably trying to impress Sherlock, but Sherlock really wasn't in the mood of finding her attractive. He turned to walk to the gate, leaving one last glance behind. A few steps away, he was suddenly stopped by a horrific voice, one that he recognised to be Jim Moriarty's-

"Upside down, Sherlock, upside down!"


End file.
